Open letter to Kurt Vonnegut

There’s nothing I can say that hasn’t been said before and there are no words in my vocabulary that can fully encompass just how much you and your words have changed my life.

Where do I ever start? Is it how I found myself between the pages of Breakfast of Champions or found understanding in A Man Without a Country or love in the stories in Welcome to the Monkey House and hope in God Bless You, Dr. Kevorkian. Which you might not expect but here is it anyway.

I started this letter a little over two years ago but for whatever reason I wasn’t able to finish it.

So, this is it in all it’s messy glory, I hope you like it or laugh at it’s ridiculousness.

Thank you saving me time and time again. I love you.

Here’s the thing.

Your words brought me into existence 
eighteen years before I was born 
and by the time I came across them,
your books were my bible 
and they consumed me like prayers.

Now I know that might sound ridiculous 
to you but, it’s the kind of ridiculous
you would have liked.

The same way you liked smoking pall mall’s
or the way you repeated three words one-hundred-and-six times,
or even how you were outraged by semicolons enough
to call them transvestite hermaphrodites representing absolutely nothing
but still used them anyway.

It’s been ten years and I am still trying to figure out why
you were as hard on yourself as you kind to others.

And it’s been ten years but your words continue to live
in the hearts of humans whose world you changed.

This will never be finished but it’s okay because so it goes *

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.